


I Like Your Style

by LaLainaJ



Series: Make Some Noise [123]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Banter, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 02:46:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11476989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: Caroline and Klaus might be friends but that doesn't mean they don't argue about everything under the sun. Caroline's got a point to prove and Klaus isn't sure he'll survive her methods.





	I Like Your Style

**I Like Your Style**

**(Prompt: kc + "I bet I can dance/move/act like that and I don't even have to be a dancer/stripper/actor/whatever wait are you turned on?" sex. SMUT.)**

When his doorbell rings at 8:17 PM on a Wednesday, when he's not expecting a soul, Klaus decides to ignore it. He firmly believes that dropping by - uninvited  _and_  unannounced – is a never a good idea. His phone hasn't made a sound all evening and surely if there were some sort of emergency someone would have tried to call first. He shifts on the couch, sinking deeper into the cushions, and continues with his Netflix surfing.

It's difficult to concentrate, he idly scrolls without really absorbing anything, as the doorbell will not stop. If anything his guest becomes  _more_  persistent the longer there's no answer, making the irritating ringing infinitely more so by tapping out a melody of short chimes and long clangs that are familiar. And  _not_  in a good way.

Klaus is given a brief reprieve, a moment of blessed silence, and he thinks he just might have managed to out stubborn the doorbell maestro.

Only to be immediately treated to another, equally impassioned, performance. Which just about pushes the limit of Klaus' patience.

He tosses his remote aside and pushes himself to his feet before stalking towards the front door. A passing glance at the mirror in his hallway tells him he's probably not fit to receive company, he'd already showered and hadn't bothered with a shirt, but since he's reasonably certain he doesn't actually  _like_  his visitor (he might not be able to place the song but it was  _awful_ ) he doesn't feel the need to make himself presentable.

An impulse he regrets upon first opening the door. Caroline Forbes might not have been invited but, standing on his porch in a yellow sundress, her blonde curls loose about her shoulders, she's far from unwelcome. Klaus is already fully aware of her questionable taste in music and since it had been a boon to him just last week he can't claim it's a deal breaker. Her lovely blue eyes widen, her sunny smile dimming slightly as her eyes drop, raking over his torso. There's a hint of shock, a healthy amount of interest, and more than a dollop of heat as her gaze lingers over his shoulders before flickering lower.

Perhaps there's something to be said for not being presentable. He  _might_  even flex a little as he crosses his arms and leans against the wall just inside the doorway, silently waiting for Caroline to realize she's quite shamelessly objectifying him.

He doesn't mind but he can't resist the opportunity to see her blush. It's only unfortunate that there were witnesses because Klaus knows she's likely to deny any discomfiture later.

Caroline visibly shakes herself, her spine straightening, and meets his eyes once more. There's a brief flash of chagrin but determination quickly masks any embarrassment. When she speaks it's friendly, suspiciously so, "Hey, Klaus. Are you busy?"

He glances down at himself pointedly, "Not particularly. Why do you ask?"

"Because I think it's time we settle our little disagreement." Caroline tells him.

Klaus wracks his brain, trying to figure out what she means. He and Caroline disagree – frequently and often at great volume, much to the amusement of his siblings and their assorted friends – so narrowing it down isn't easy. He'd seen Caroline just last Sunday at a dinner at Rebekah's (a monthly affair where she ordered gourmet takeout, plated it on her designer table wear, and pretended like she knew how to operate her range). Caroline had spent the evening gleefully taunting him about his love for the pop group they'd taken in a few days prior. Klaus had been roped into chaperoning Henrik who, in the midst of an epic teenage puppy love, had wanted to take his girlfriend to see her favorite group. Klaus, unwilling to face a crush of teenagers alone had in turn managed to cajole (and bribe) Caroline into tagging along. He was supposed to help her paint her living room this weekend, the price they'd agreed on.

He'd thought he'd gotten off easy. Klaus enjoyed painting and Caroline's company and had been dreading the concert.

The flashing lights, high pitched screams, and so called music had been almost bearable with Caroline at his side, bright and joyous and dancing along with the crowd and occasionally leaning in close so he could hear her poke fun at his stoicism. At one point she'd turned in his direction when Klaus hadn't been expecting it and he'd quickly faced the stage, adopted a look of concentration so she'd not realize he'd been intently watching  _her_ , and not the spectacle he'd paid an exorbitant amount of money to witness.

He'd overdone it and Caroline had taken his feigned interest in the performance as a sign that he was a secret girl groupie (her words, not his). She'd begun texting him gossip about the band member's tumultuous love lives and links to interviews posted on YouTube the next day.

He's mostly been ignoring it, certain that any heated denials would be taken as further proof of his supposed ardor. Eventually he and Caroline would find another subject to spar over. They always did.

None of that tells him what pressing disagreement she thinks needs to be solved immediately.

She shifts her weight when he remains silent, hefting a large bag he's just now noticing higher on her shoulder. "I'm going to need your bathroom for like twenty minutes. And I'll have to borrow a chair."

That just confuses Klaus all the more. "I'm lost, sweetheart."

She lets out an annoyed huff, pointedly keeping her eyes trained on a spot somewhere to the left of his head. "You told me all your drooling at the concert was over the 'grace and athleticism' of the dancing, remember? Which I called bullshit on, of course. But you were all blah blah blah artistry blah blah blah years of training."

Klaus fights a wince, recalling that particular argument. It wasn't his finest moment but he'd had to come up with  _something_  to explain away what she'd seen as fascination. And then Caroline had gotten so offended, calling the choreography 'cookie cutter sexbot thrusting' and he hadn't been able to resist countering, just to see her color heighten and her hands gesture wildly as she attempted to prove her point.

It was his usual instinct, one he rarely bothered fighting. Really, it was a miracle Caroline hadn't realized his interest. Every single one of their mutual acquaintances had remarked on it. Klaus was certain there was a betting pool.

"And you're going to prove me wrong… how?"

Caroline's smile is a slow thing, hinting at an ace up her sleeve, and Klaus is both wary and intrigued. She meets his eyes, hers filled with challenge, "Why don't you let me in and I'll show you?"

Wordlessly, Klaus steps aside, waving her in. Sucks in a harsh breath when she pats his stomach, her hand lingering in a way that feels deliberate. She doesn't look at him, merely strides ahead. "Living room first," she calls. "We're going to need to move some furniture."

He still has very little idea of what's happening but Klaus follows Caroline's lead. Obliges her when she asks him to push his couch against one wall, the coffee table against another. She seems to consider the rug but then decides it can stay. She avoids his gaze, manner brisk and businesslike, only stopping when he taunts her about it, pride stealing across her expressive face. Her eyelids grow heavy when she looks at him a new weight and anticipation there. She stands close to him, closer than necessary, doesn't shy away when his skin brushes against her bare arm or her clothed back. When the room has been rearranged to her specifications she nods her satisfaction. "Perfect. Time for wardrobe. I'll be right back." She collects her bag and strolls from the room before Klaus can think to pepper her with questions.

He settles in to wait, finds he can't mourn the change in his evening's plans. Not when it seems like Caroline's are going to turn out to be far superior.

* * *

She strives for calm as she changes, rolling on the shimmery fishnets and wriggling into the black leotard she'd tracked down yesterday. The scoop neck was modest but it was cut low in the back. Somehow it still managed to keep her boobs in place so Caroline figured it was worth the drive out to the dance shop she hadn't even known existed until this plan had occurred to her.

It had seemed genius at the time. Now, minutes away from actually doing it Caroline can admit that it was a little crazy. That she didn't do her best thinking in the middle of the night when she'd been tossing and turning and mentally rehearsing new rebuttals and quips for the next time she saw Klaus.

She notices her hands starting to shake when she retrieves her makeup bag and she sets it down carefully, taking a deep breath. Clown makeup was not on the agenda for the evening. Though if her lipstick happened to get smeared later on she wouldn't be objecting.

She eyes her phone, resting innocently on the countertop, and debates calling one of her friends for a chat. They'd all been dragged to a dance class over the last week, some more good naturedly than others, and they'd probably be good for a pep talk (Elena) or at least willing to listen to her vent her nerves (Bonnie).

If Caroline called Kat she'd likely even get yet  _another_  lecture about how she really didn't need to try so hard, that she could have saved herself the muscle strain and expense if she'd just shown up at Klaus' door in a trench coat and some fuck me heels. 'I don't even like him, Caroline,' she'd said a few days ago, after taking a deep drink of wine. "And I  _hate_  lending people my shoes. But I will do it, for you. And for me, so I don't have to listen to your verbal foreplay  _ever_  again."

Caroline had insisted that she absolutely was not trying to  _seduce_  Klaus, that it was just her duty to prove to him how very wrong he was about what constituted good dancing. She'd specifically planned to show up today because no one thought  _Wednesday_  was an appropriate day for a booty call. She'd been snippy and irritated that her friends hadn't bought a single word of her denials.

Standing in Klaus' bathroom, jittery and nervous but also excited, Caroline's beginning to realize that she might owe each of them an apology while she sat through rounds of 'I told you so.'

Assuming this whole thing didn't blow up in her face and she didn't have to flee to another state in humiliation.

If she pounces on him Caroline is totally going to blame it on the fact that Klaus had opened the door looking rumpled and delicious, more skin on display than she'd ever seen. Her carefully rehearsed speech had fled and she'd had a brief,  _very_  distracting, fantasy about dropping her bag and reaching for him with no further preliminaries.

Those kinds of thoughts about Klaus weren't exactly new. His face had been popping up in her fantasy repertoire regularly, beginning back when he was just an acquaintance with nice hands and a voice that she was sure was made for dirty talk. He'd begun appearing with more frequency as they'd gotten to know each other because as much as he infuriated her sometimes Caroline always walked away from their little spats feeling energized, ready to go another round or twelve just to watch the way his lips curled and his dimples peeked out when he smirked.

It was only natural, she'd told herself, to wonder how their dynamic – the push pull of it that left her heated and excited – would translate with them naked.

Caroline draws herself up to her full height and pushes those thoughts away before they can take root. Right now wasn't the time, she refuses to be blushing and nervous when she walked out there. Her motives might have shifted but she still had a point to prove. Caroline concentrates on fluffing up her curls in the mirror before reaching for her makeup again, taking a deep steadying breath. She had a plan and she was committed to executing it. She'd just get through the steps she'd laid out, nice and easy, one after the other. It was time to get her game face on.

Pessimism wasn't her thing and at least,  _if_  things went horribly, going to insane lengths to win an argument was totally in character. She could spin it, weather the friendly ribbing that came her way, and go back to being Klaus' friend slash adversary like nothing had happened.

If she took a shot and fell flat maybe she could finally get over her silly little crush. And on the bright side, if her shot hit its mark, she wouldn't have to. Her friends would still mock her, of course. But Klaus was totally petty enough to join her in some serious revenge PDA so Caroline knew she'd still come out the winner.

* * *

He paces, curiosity raging, straining to hear anything from down the hallway, itching for the tiniest hint about what Caroline has planned. The use of the word 'wardrobe' was particularly intriguing, suggesting that Caroline was in a state of undress in his bathroom, something he struggles not to dwell on knowing full well his attire won't hide much. Unfortunately, not a peep makes it to his ears, and Klaus is left to torture himself with possibilities, most of them likely too good to be true, until the bathroom door creaks back open and he hears her step out of the bathroom.

At which point he throws himself on to the couch, crosses his ankle over his opposite knee, all in an effort to look natural and nonchalant.

It's a wasted effort as Klaus is certain that the way his lips part, body stiffening in shock as Caroline walks back into the living room are most illuminating and he's grateful his legs will obscure the visible tent in his sweats caused by his swelling cock. He swallows heavily, taking in the sleek lines of her body, lovingly outlined in very little fabric. What covers her clings deliciously and his hands itch to skim over her curves. He's always liked her legs, has vivid desires involving them wrapped about his hips, and they seem especially endless and tempting in the stockings she wears. Caroline tosses him a smug smile, flipping her hair over her shoulder, resting a hand on her hip. "My eyes are up here," she taunts.

Klaus clears his throat, "Caroline, wh…" he trails off, uncertain of just what he means to ask. There are so many possibilities. 'What are you wearing?' "What are you doing?' "Why are you all the way across the room when you could be in my lap?'

He should probably work up to that last bit.

Her laugh is warm, a touch mischievous. There's a slight relaxing of her posture and her confidence radiates in the swaying of her hips as she takes a few steps towards him. There's nothing but innocence in her expression, too much to be natural. "I'm proving a point. I haven't taken a dance class since college but I bet I can do it just as well as those girls you were eyeing."

He takes a second to digest that, to ponder the implications. "You're going to… dance? Now? In that?" He's helpless not to gesture, cringing because he  _knows_  he sounds like an imbecile.

Caroline's fingertips stroke across the neckline of her top, head tipped to the side quizzically, "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Klaus clenches his teeth together because the words he wants to blurt out – that the only thing  _wrong_  with the clingy black scraps of fabric she had on what that he wasn't entirely certain he could remove them expediently – was probably unwise. "Nothing," he manages, clipped and terse.

Caroline doesn't seem to take offense, if anything she looks pleased. "Well, now that we've established what I'm doing here, why don't you take a seat? I'll be out of your hair in under a half hour, don't you worry."

She breezes away, towards the kitchen, before Klaus can argue with her assumption that he wants her gone.

No matter. He'll make a point of correcting it later.

* * *

Caroline works quickly, dragging one of Klaus' kitchen chairs into the center of his living room, hooking up her phone to his stereo system. It only takes a moment – she'd monopolized the music at a party he'd thrown once or twice, or every single time, even though he complained incessantly – and she doesn't let herself look at him.

A girl only had so much self-control.

He hadn't bothered to put a shirt on and he wears only a pair of sweatpants, slung low enough that it's entirely possible he's not wearing anything underneath them. She wants to ask him about the tattoos, wants to discover the texture of his skin, to see if he'll shudder when she traces his hipbone with her tongue.

She'd want to throw herself at him even if he hadn't been watching her every move with lust darkened eyes, the lines of his body taut, a struggle painted clear across his face.

He wanted her. Of that Caroline had no more doubts.

She gets into position, facing Klaus with the chair in front of her, setting a hand on the upper rung, letting her hair fall down to curtain her face. The music begins, slow and sultry, and she begins to sway her hips in time, bending deeper with every eight count. Caroline's certain she hears a noise, a tiny pained groan, and bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She swings a leg over the top of the chair, pausing to turn in profile and run her hand along her thigh as she catches Klaus' eye. She spins, and drapes herself across it, extending her legs and dipping low over the other side, arching her back to pull herself up, her hand coming up to play with her hair. She twists, facing him, easing her thighs open as she glances up to gauge Klaus' reaction and she loses the beat once she sees that he's moving.

His jaw is clenched tight and Caroline's eyes widen when he looms over her. He pauses for a second, his eyes tracing a hot path down the line of her body. She fights the urge to squirm but then Klaus is dropping to his knees between her thighs, surging up and cupping her jaw before tugging her closer. She goes willingly, eagerly, slipping off the chair and grasping his shoulders for purchase. Klaus smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arm around her waist and hauling into him, chest to knee, shoving the chair away carelessly. He pulls back enough to speak though the patterns he's tracing along her spine are distracting. "Perhaps I'll concede. Just this once."

Her laugh is breathy, "Yeah, you'll concede. You really are into the whole cheesy choreography thing, huh?"

He shakes his head, a touch exasperated, "I barely saw those girls, Caroline. I was looking at you and you almost caught me."

She doesn't bother fighting the pleased smile. "Noted. Totally kicking myself for putting all the effort into learning a routine now. I didn't even get to the good part."

Klaus increases the distance between them, intrigue flickering across his face, "The good part?""

Caroline's not having that. "Later," she murmurs, burying her hand in his hair. "Assuming you don't suck at the sex thing."

Klaus is unable to take that as anything but a challenge, just as Caroline had intended. He uses his arm to lift her, his hand coming up to cradle her head as he lays her on her back. He props himself up on one elbow, settling into the cradle of her thighs and leaning down to kiss her once more. There's less urgency now, the heat builds slowly, his tongue teasing and stroking as their breath quickens and her hips push up searching for friction. Klaus' hand begins to wander, his exploration gentle. He strokes her throat and her head tips back with an encouraging sigh. He pulls his mouth from hers, dragging kisses lower as his fingertips trace her collarbone, hooking into the neckline of her leotard. He tugs enough to bare one breast, his touch gentle on the slope before finding her nipple. It begins to firm as he toys with it, tightening under the roughening circles of his thumb, making Caroline shift restlessly. He glances down, lips parted. "Lovelier than I'd imagined," he murmurs. His hand leaves her, head dipping. His lips close over her nipple, Caroline arches up with a moan and he attempts to push the fabric further down. It resists and Caroline lets out a noise of protest as Klaus pulls back, brow furrowed in vexation, "I need this  _off_. How does one remove it?"

She'd laugh at how puzzled he seems, makes a mental note to joke about it later, but it's not the time for humor, not with her skin tingling and a persistent ache between her thighs. She pushes him back slightly, hooking a leg over his hip so he doesn't go far, and tugs a strap down her shoulder in impatient jerks. The other quickly follows and Klaus seems eager to help, rolling the leotard down her torso. Caroline hooks her thumbs in her tights, wiggling her hips so they come off too. Klaus freezes for a moment. "You weren't wearing anything under that," he mutters, almost to himself, sounding strained.

He's stopped undressing her and Caroline's not having that. Letting out an annoyed huff she bends her knee up to get one leg free, biting her lip to keep from moaning when she presses against Klaus' cock, straining behind a single layer of fabric. "It's not very forgiving. I didn't want lines. Besides, pretty sure I am not the only one going commando here." This time she grinds up deliberately and a shudder wracks Klaus' frame. She runs her nails along his spine, one drifting up to tug at the curls at the base of his neck, the other pushing under the waistband of his sweats. His head bows, a harsh breath panted against her throat and he rears up, shoving their remaining clothes aside. This time she's helpless to resist the urge to reach for him, sitting up when he moves to hover over her again, pushing at his shoulder until he gets the hint and rolls onto his back.

Caroline wraps her hand around his cock, slinging a leg over his hips and shaking her hair back. She strokes him, rubbing her thumb over the tip, relishing his harsh inhale. Just like when they argue Klaus is completely unwilling to let her win, pulling himself up and brushing her hands aside. He angles his head and kisses her, tempting her to part her lips with a lush swipe of his tongue, a hand on her hip urging her to move against him. Her mouth falls open as she sinks deeper into the kiss, thighs widening as she searches for friction. She gasps when she feels his fingers, parting her folds and coming away slick.

She's been turned on since she started to dance, ready for him to be inside her since he'd first put his mouth on her nipple. Klaus seems intent on teasing her with light indirect touches to her clit that tighten the knots in her stomach but give her no relief. His other hand is greedy for all the skin it can reach, smoothing over her back and ass, sneaking between them to palm a breast. Caroline bites down on his shoulder and Klaus hisses, taking the hint and easing a finger inside. "More," she rasps, soothing the mark she'd left.

He obeys, adding a second and pressing his hand tightly to her. She begins to ride his fingers in earnest, thighs trembling when the heel of his hand rubs against her clit. He groans, leaning back to watch her face, "Just like that Caroline. Do you know how many times I've thought of you like this? Trembling and breathless and wet because of me."

Hopefully nearly as many times as she has.

He curls his fingers, rubbing against a spot inside of her that has her head falling back and her vision going hazy, "Tell me," she demands, in a voice that's hoarse and edged in need.

Klaus obliges, and she'd totally been right about his voice. Thickened with his own arousal it's mesmerizing, "The little dresses you favor make it impossible not to think about sneaking my hand underneath your skirt when we're at a bar or out to dinner. I'd stroke your thighs, a silent question, and you'd spread them for me, eager for my touch. In my mind you've been wet and hot around my fingers dozens upon dozens of times. I think about getting you off under a table while you flush prettily and try not to squirm when you come."

She whines, moving faster, inordinately pleased that his fantasies seem closely aligned with hers.

Caroline swallows hard, rolling her head forward to look at him. His face is tight with strain, lips reddened and swollen. She manages a broken inhale, scrambling to put together a coherent sentence, "Well, we are supposed to do drinks on Friday…"

He makes a harsh noise, low in his throat, his hand easing away from her. Caroline's mouth drops open but his next words stills her protest, "I need a condom."

She shakes her head, "I have the implant and I don't have anything. Are you…"

"Disease free? Yes."

That's good enough for her. She trusts him and she wants him and stopping right now when she's so close seems like torture. She lifts up higher onto her knees and reaches down, their fingers tangle but they get him positioned and Caroline sinks down with a moan, looking down to watch him slide inside of her. He grips her hips tightly when he's all the way in, his body a solid line of tension against hers. She fights the hold, needing to  _move_ , and he eases up with a groan, reaching to tease her clit again when she begins to rock over him. It's probably not graceful, more frantic than finessed, but Klaus doesn't seem to mind, little noises of need spilling from him every time she takes him back inside of her. Their skin heats and slickens and soon she's short of breath and the best kind of dizzy.

Caroline cries out as his fingers rub against her with more purpose and she begins to shake, gripping him as her orgasm builds. "You're so close, sweetheart," Klaus murmurs. "Let go for me. I want to watch you fall apart."

She slumps into him when it hits her, muffling her cry in his skin and Klaus' arms tighten around her as he lets go, snapping his hips up into hers as he chases his own release. He bites out a sharp curse, a reverent whisper of her name, before he collapses back onto the floor, Caroline following him down. They shift for a minute to get comfortable, and Caroline squirms as he slips out of her before settling against him.

The music's long stopped and she lays her head over his chest, listens to his heart slow as he sifts his hands through her hair. When she feels like she can talk without wheezing she peeks up, only to find Klaus' eyes closed, his expression content. As if he feels her watching his eyes slit open and he smiles, "Something on your mind?"

So many things.

She bites her lip and Klaus' eyes flare with a new rush of heat as he watches, "Okay, first, I legitimately did not plan to seduce you."

Klaus appears dubious, "You planned to dance for me, wearing what you were wearing, but it wasn't a seduction?"

Okay, fine, when you put it like that it sounded bad.

"I didn't  _consciously_  decide to seduce you," she amends.

He presses his lips together like he's trying not to laugh. "Well, remind me to do something nice for your subconscious someday. It obviously has discerning tastes and an admirable sense of initiative."

She pokes him in the side, narrowing her eyes in a glare. He couldn't seriously be mocking her, could he? They were naked and she could feel their combined release coating the inside of her thighs.

Klaus ducks his head and tugs her upwards with his grip on her hair, kissing her until her lips soften and cling to his. He pulls back enough to speak softly, "I'd intended to ask you to dinner for ages. We always just seem to sink into bickering before I can manage and then it seems like bad timing."

"Oh," Caroline says, slightly mollified. "Maybe you should be less of a dick then."

Klaus laughs, "I think that's unlikely. Perhaps you should be less easy to bait, hmm?"

Caroline has to admit that also seems unlikely. She sits up and notes the way Klaus eyes her breasts hungrily. She moves away before he can make the move he's clearly considering, "Compromise," she offers. "We bicker  _while_  we do date things. Starting with food. Now. Then more sex things."

Klaus reaches over his head in a stretch, and she kind of can't fault him for ogling her boobs, not when she takes a very long look at the way his pale skin stretches over the lean muscles of his abdomen, letting her eyes linger on his cock that seems to be twitching back into readiness. He doesn't seem to mind the scrutiny, folding his hands under his head, "That's a compromise I can live with. I do like the bickering and I've heard excellent things about make up sex."

Caroline doesn't look at him as she stands and makes her way to the bathroom. She's going to need sustenance because she knows she won't be able to resist picking a fight with  _that_  statement lingering between them.

Could make up sex with Klaus even  _be_  better than the sex they'd just had? Her legs are shaky and she feels fantastic so Caroline's skeptical.

But not at all opposed to experimenting.


End file.
